Infected
by Glow
Summary: A conversation between Jess and Tristan sometime during Run Away Little Boy. Part 1 in series. [Complete]


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PAIRING: Again, none really. It's basically a conversation between Jess and Tristan in Run Away Little Boy. Rory isn't actually in it but there's Trory leanings and shades of Rory/Jess. (I'm sorry!)

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RATING: PG 

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SPOILERS: Up to and including Run Away Little Boy

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DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. They are the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, Warner Brothers and others who have more money than I do. No infringement is intended.

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AUTHORS NOTES: So this is another weird short fic. What is up with me? As for Almost A Happy Day, thanks to those who reviewed but I haven't a clue as to where to go with a sequel. Sorry. This one is kind of a conversation between Jess and Tristan after he leaves Ms. Patti's and before he breaks into the safe. The characterizations are a little wonky I know, but I really don't have much to work with for Jess and Tristan is mad at me. Tell me what you think of it. 

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Infected

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"Tristan! Come back!" 

The alarmed voice of a guy frightened of death by Paris rang through the air. Tristan ignored it. He focused his gaze ahead and quickened his pace to ensure that neither Paris or the nerdy guy would be able to catch up. If Paris caught him he'd be dragged back. Paris was freakishly strong for a girl. Brad would whine and plead and generally be annoying. 

He didn't want to deal with that right now. Louise filing her nails throwing him what she obviously believed to be come hither glances. Madeline giggling and flipping idly through her magazine. Brad fidgeting. 

Paris was grating on his already raw nerves. Her rampant perfectionism and harsh directions were hard to deal with on their own, but with everything else that was going on in that room he was gritting his teeth in an effort not to scream back.

Rory herself was throwing off enough nervous energy to power a small country. Her eyes were constantly darting between Dean and Tristan. She was ready to jump between the two, prevent bloodshed should one of them snap. Who was she protecting? The boy she loved and the boy she… didn't?

He didn't want to sit there with Dean's eyes boring holes into him. He didn't want to smirk back and antagonize the guy anymore. He was sick of their manly pissing contest. He was sick of fighting a battle he had already lost. 

He needed to get away. So the page from his new friends was both a relief and a curse. On one hand it got him out of rehearsals and on the other it could get him into something even worse.

But he didn't care. He felt like doing something crazy. Something self-destructive that would obliterate all of the negatives from his head. He needed to forget his father and the endless lectures he had been forced to endure lately. "That's not DuGrey behavior, Tristan. Don't screw everything up for me, Tristan," he mimicked his father's snooty voice. He wanted to forget Rory and the sweaty palms and the foreign warmth he felt around her. He was on a mission to cease to be Tristan DuGrey and just be Tristan. Without the rules, the money or the bullshit."

With some difficulty he managed to push all thoughts into the back of his mind. Still something nagged at him. Something that told him not to meet his 'friends'. "Whatever," he said. He slouched down into his patented careless rich boy walk and ran a hand through his hair. Walking confidently to his car he began to rifle through his pockets. He knew he had to have a package of cigarettes in his jacket somewhere… 

Unfortunately, it appeared that he had been mistaken.

He glanced up and down the darkened street looking for a place where he could buy another pack. The street appeared to be deserted. Most of the buildings were already dark. The only place that was open was Doose's Market. For reasons apparent to even the dimmest of people he couldn't go there. Not with last nights fluffy cake incident. He wouldn't be surprised if he was on some Stars Hollow Most Wanted list. Wanted: Dead or Alive – The Flour Spilling Kid. That was probably equivalent to armed robbery here in SmallTown USA.

Checking his pockets once again he again came up empty handed, "My kingdom for a cigarette," he muttered.

Unbeknownst to Tristan the street was not deserted. In fact, just a little way off on a bench in the shadows sat another teenage boy. Another angry, disgruntled, lost boy. From his hidden position he was studying the blonde boy with interest. "Act 5. Richard the Third," he thought. This guy was obviously not borne of Stars Hollow. Which, to Jess was a welcome change. Sometimes it felt like he was drowning in quirkiness. 

He made a decision, "Hey!" he called out. "Catch!" without further preliminaries he tossed his package of Newport's at the other guy.

Startled Tristan whipped around in the direction of the voice and his brain registered something flying at his head. Automatically his hand shot up and he caught it just before it hit him in the face. He opened his hand curiously. When he saw the package his rich boy façade slipped and he grinned in relief. "Hey, thanks man."

Shakily he pulled one out of the box. Jess stood up and walked closer, "That's quite the addiction you have there," he said gesturing to his jittery hands.

"This?" He laughed bitterly and lit the end, "is not because of the addiction." 

"Oh really?"

"Oh no. This," he gestured wildly, "is because of Rory Gilmore."

Jess nodded rapidly making connections, "Huh. You know Rory?" 

Tristan rolled his eyes, "I know her. Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. You?"

"A little," Jess tried to keep his voice nonchalant. He looked down at his shoes.

Knowingly Tristan smiled, "Keep it that way," he advised.

Jess's head snapped up suspiciously, "Why?"

Tristan sat down on the curb; "She has a way of messing with your mind."

"How so?"

Tristan glanced up at the other kid, "Who are you?"

"I'm Jess. I just moved here."

"Lucky you."

"Oh yeah. I'm as happy as a leprechaun with his very own pot of colored marshmallows."

"Ah sarcasm. I'm sorry to tell you Jess, but whatever I tell you will have no effect whatsoever."

Jess scoffed, "Why do you say that?"

"You've been infected and it looks bad. Roryitis, if you will," morosely Tristan stared straight ahead. He no longer had a filter between his brain and his mouth. Any and all thoughts whirling through his head were liable to come spilling out.

Amused but a little wary Jess joined Tristan on the curb, "Are you drunk?" 

"I wish."

"Well. Just checking."

The two sat there for a few minutes in a companionable silence. Tristan broke it first. "She's odd, you know."

"I know."

"I think that's what makes the Roryitis progress so quickly. She's pretty, sure. That's the germ. That's the initial infection."

"It scares me that you've put so much thought into this." 

"You just wait," Tristan said wisely, "wait until it advances. It multiplies like rats."

"Don't you mean rabbits?"

"Nope. Rats reproduce even faster."

"Good to know."

"So anyway it's reproducing…" 

"Oh yeah? What's happens then?" 

"Then she takes over your head. You're thoughts; you're dreams, your heart. You find yourself looking at her even when you don't really want to. You're thinking about her even when she's not around. Every little thing reminds you of her. The color blue, the smell of strawberries books even. You can't drive past a damn Starbuck's with out wishing she was with you." He paused and suddenly he blurted, "Did you know she had a boyfriend?"

"Yeah. I believe his name is Dean," Jess said the name with distaste.

"Dean. God he's annoying."

"He's just so…" Jess trailed off.

"Banal?"

"Exactly! They have nothing in common. She must be so bored trying to have a conversation about anything other than sports. Good word, by the way."

"Thanks. I'll tell my dad that thousands of dollars in tuition payments were good for something."

"You go to Chilton, then?"

"I'd prefer to call it Hell, you know the one with the ice? But yes. I go to Chilton"

"Dante. That must mean you're Tristan, right?"

"Ding, ding. Give the boy a gold star." 

Jess snorted, "You know, *Romeo* the sand throwing thing isn't all that effective once you move beyond elementary school."

"Thanks for the sage advice, Wax on, wax off."

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"The Karate Kid."

"Classic." 

Tristan threw down his cigarette and crushed it underneath his heel. He twirled his ring around his finger for a few moments debating with himself. Regretfully he stood, "Well Jess, I have places to be." 

Jess stood up as well. "It's been enlightening."

"I aim to enlighten. I was Plato in a past life."

"Sure. Maybe I'll see you around."

Tristan shrugged, "Doubtful," he said and began walking towards his car. He clicked the automatic starter on his car and the engine roared to life. Suddenly he turned around, "Hey. Jess!"

Jess glanced back at him, "Yeah?"

"You know there's no cure."

Jess shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head ruefully. "I know."

Tristan smirked, "But what a way to go. Good luck," without waiting for a reply he turned and slid into his car. Gunning the engine he sped away leaving nothing more than a crushed cigarette butt, a trail of light and some new thoughts brewing in Jess's head.


End file.
